


Christmas Wish

by TheKawaiitan



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Depression, Despair, F/M, Fights, Hearing Voices, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Post-Despair, Suicide Attempt, makoto suffer time, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 01:22:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9049519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKawaiitan/pseuds/TheKawaiitan
Summary: Post-Future Arc AU. It’s Christmas and Makoto misses the person he wants to spend his holiday with the most. AU in which Kirigiri doesn’t survive.Alternative Contribution to Naegiri Week Day 7 Prompt: Tradition





	

**Author's Note:**

> You can either just go ahead and read it and get sad or you can follow some extra steps to get emotionally fucked up and really understand how Makoto feels.
> 
> 1) Listen to Nick Jonas’ Chainsaw until you feel it in your very soul. Advised to listen to it once with your eyes closed and more times if you really need to. (Hard Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7V6-0r-fJgw)
> 
> 2) Load up the muffled version of Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas is You. Start reading when it starts playing. Its ok if you read through the whole thing and it hasn’t stopped playing or if stops in the middle. (Hard Link: http://thekawaiitan.tumblr.com/post/153581959708/inmilkwood-rosehaw-this-makes-me-feel-like-im)
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> Happy Holidays, y'all.

Muffled Christmas music comes from the party in the apartment below – some classic he’s too inebriated to make out. While his sister and former classmates celebrate their holiday, Makoto laments his.

He sits at his office desk, swirling a glass of cheap, white rum usually hidden away. He doesn’t drink except on three days: her birthday, Christmas, and his birthday – all three of which happen in the space of five months. He’s not much for alcohol but nothing tastes so sweet on days so bitter ever since he lost her – except tonight. Another harsh sip, he turns his eyes back to their photo.

_I love you so much._

He stands with Kyoko Kirigiri, their fingers intertwined and foreheads resting against each other. He can remember everything about that moment: 2:39 PM on a warm, golden summer afternoon. She wore the blueberry perfume he had gifted her so long ago and though hidden in the photograph, their engagement rings hung on chains around their necks. He kissed her countless times that hour. Once before he asked and a million more times peppering her face after she said yes.

_You’re so beautiful._

Clumsily, he picks up the frame and slides out the backing. At seven glasses, he’s still able to read the black ink delicately written all those years ago. Or maybe he’s just memorized it.

“Makoto, you make me so happy. You’ve loved and supported me unconditionally and I want to do the same for you. A future with you is my hope.” – Kyoko Kirigiri

Underneath, in red ink more excitedly scribbled than carefully penned,

“Kyoko, the kindness, faith, and love you’ve given me has helped me grow into the man I am today. Because of you, I know I can get through anything.” – Makoto Kirigiri

_I can’t._

The choked sobs he’s been holding back spill from his mouth like water from a broken dam. Makoto downs the remaining half of his glass and it burns but it’s still not enough to hide the pain that hurts the worst. Slapping the photo face up on to his desk, he gets up and heads to the main bedroom. Each step down the narrow hallway is so heavy, it takes everything he has not to collapse.

Under a bed, once theirs, are boxes – her clothes, books, and other possessions. With fumbling hands, he carefully moves some to the side searching for a specific package. He’s looking for her jacket.

_It still smells like you._

Lavender hair would drape a dark green, almost black, fabric that would cloak the slender frame of the body he knew so well. Her skin, her scars – all of her. Holding it to his chest, it’s almost as if she’s there in his arms again. Almost.

He sits at the edge of the bed he hasn’t slept in for years. He can’t bring himself to be alone when it’s meant for two. Her side of the bed still has her night stand with a lamp and the novel he got her for their last, and only, Christmas covered in dust – another locked room murder mystery.

_It’s still here if you want to finish it._

The trek back to his desk ends with him stumbling and slumping over the seat of his chair. The walk down the hall was hazier than he remembered it and the furniture has moved itself. The office is spinning and nothing makes sense. Why did things end up like this? Why?

“Why?” Glaring at the photo, from her face to his face and back, he’s not sure who he’s asking. He drapes her jacket on the back of his chair then slams his hands on to both sides of the photo, yelling, “Why?! It should’ve been me!”

_I did this to you._

Turning away, he pours more of the bottle’s contents, filling the glass to the brim, and gulps it down. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore. Just a little more and he’ll be numb enough for the night.

_I did this to us._

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he picks up the bottle only to find it empty. It was the last one.

_Damn it. DAMN IT. DAMNIT._

He sets it back down on his desk but with a little more force than he intended. It breaks and his hand is bleeding. He doesn’t feel it. Makoto’s had enough – this empty bottle, this empty penthouse, this empty feeling that never leaves him. The glass is so light, he throws it against the wall with ease. The shatter echoes throughout the room and he can hear a commotion down stairs. Whatever.

_That’s not going to bring her back._

His office seems smaller than it was just a second ago. It’s closing in on him. He can’t breathe. Which way is the balcony? He can’t tell if he opened the door or broke it but the first thing to greet him was the cold, December air. He’s twenty stories up at the top floor – the penthouse reserved for the department head – his fiancé. Byakuya Togami may be the new, instated head but this isn’t his home to “give to Makoto.” It’s his and Kyoko’s and it always was. The city lights are blinding, the sounds of a busy nightlife pollute his ears. He takes a few minutes against the railing to get accustomed to the outside.

“Makoto?”

He can hear his name but he isn’t sure where it’s coming from.

“Kyoko? Where are you?”

_Come find me._

The street below looks so far away, it shouldn’t take too long. Lifting himself up, he leans forward without a second thought, letting the wind guide him.

“Makoto!”

Will it hurt? Will it take too long? Will the sounds of screaming be the last thing he hears before seeing her?

_Yes._

Will it be worth it?

_Yes!_

“No!”

He’s pulled in the opposite direction with a hard thud on his back. Squinting, he can make out three, maybe four, figures. Maybe it’s more – the shapes won’t stop moving. Are those voices? Is that the music? He doesn’t know, it all sounds like echoes of the same noise. Everything’s still spinning and someone’s dragging him back inside.

“Naegichi! What are you doing!?” Yasuhiro Hagakure’s shouting at him, shaking him by his shoulders. As he begins to come back, Makoto is quick to shove him away and scrambles to his feet only to be taken back down to the floor.

“That’s not my name! Let – hey! Let go of me!”

Toko Fukawa slips past and runs to the balcony door, trying to close it. He’s ripped the lock from the frame and the door just won’t slide right. With the help of Togami, Hagakure is trying to pin Makoto’s shoulders down. But he’s been in fights before – he elbows the clairvoyant’s ribcage as hard as he can and he crumples. Scooting away from Togami, he kicks at his hands and gets to his feet when he has enough space.

_Kyoko, I’ll be there soon._

Makoto still can’t see straight but he can feel the breeze, calling him to where he needs to go. Shouldering something, or someone, he makes a break for the open balcony. But Komaru’s faster, and stronger, knocking him flat on to his stomach. She spends more time in the field than her brother, besting him long enough for the others to jump back in.

“NOW you’re all here!? Where were you when she needed us?!”

_I should’ve…_

Maybe it’s the rage, maybe it’s the anguish, but he’s still thrashing.

“You’re not the only one who’s lost someone, Makoto!” Aoi Asahina shouts, getting his arms behind his back. He twists out of her grip and pushes her back as he lifts himself up, yelling, “But we were going to get married!”

As he pulls his leg from Togami, ready to free the other one from Komaru, Asahina drops her knee to his kidney with ample force, rendering him paralyzed in pain for the next twenty minutes. He can’t move, he can’t scream. All he can do is sob.

“We were going to live together…”

They sit him up, Asahina rubbing his back and keeping him in place should he attempt to run again.

“We were going to have kids…”

Fukawa and Komaru sweep up the glass and collect all the empty bottles. Hagakure gets him some water after repairing the balcony door frame just enough to slide it securely shut.

“We were going to be happy…”

Komaru bandages up his palm after finding the first aid kit. Togami puts their picture back in its frame and tucks it away in a drawer.

“I’m sorry… I just… miss her… so much…” he says in between hiccups.

**Author's Note:**

> Me, on Naegiri Day 1: Stop hurting Makoto with nightmares to emphasize how much he loves her!
> 
> Me, on Naegiri Day 4: Kill his wife and make him try to khs only to be damned in the hellish fate that is a world without her after protecting and loving her for so long for the finale.
> 
> I was thinking maybe Makoto seems OOC but he also actually tried to kill himself in the anime (with the help of mind control) but there’s also alcohol and severe depression so here we are. I'd get fucked up too if Kyoko Kirigiri agreed to marry me and then she got Kodaka'd.


End file.
